


Without Barriers

by lonniek



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Comfort, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/pseuds/lonniek
Summary: Michael and Luke have always been close, always been friends. And now that they're here, that they're big and popular and famous, Luke is still trying to be comfortable in his own skin. Michael is there to help.





	Without Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> Dear thanks to the awful influences of my life who have dragged me into this fandom. I love you, I hate you, I couldn't have done this without you.

Michael has always had a filthy mouth. He has to bite his lip in interviews when a double entendres presents itself, presses them together right before a snippy comment comes out. He’s good about controlling it in public; only sometimes do the sly remarks pass his lips.

But in private? In private, between him and the rest of the boys, Mikey’s mouth is sharp-tongued and dangerous. Especially where Luke is concerned. Luke has always been sensitive—to touch, to words. Even a sigh the wrong way could send him into a tailspin.

_“I just don’t feel right. Nobody would ever want anything to do with me. Everyone says so. They all love everyone else but me.”_

Michael hates it. Hates how even though Luke is the lead singer, he would sometimes rather cower behind a guitar and a microphone than be the boy, the _man_ , that Michael knows he is. He hasn’t told Luke yet, how much he really is wanted. How his eyes linger, how much he loves how large and warm and strong he is.

He knows that’s part of why Luke feels so awkward in his skin. Even before he was out, he was tall and wide and gangly, puberty filling him out in awkward angles and curves. So he hid: loose clothes, baggy pants. The kids made fun of him, as kids are wont to do, and Luke tried to take it in stride. But words burned Mikey’s tongue every time, holding back comments because he knew it would only make it worse.

And then they got famous. And all of the bullying stopped, and everyone who teased Luke all of a sudden wanted pictures with him, wanted to know him. Michael stood by him for as many photo ops as he could, one hand tucked firmly in the small of his back. A quiet reassurance that even though things were different with the public now, they would always be the same.

Michael’s touch is the only one that Luke doesn’t shy away from. It makes him feel special, that he can touch Luke like that. But it makes his blood boil at how skittish he’s become from years of discomfort and abuse. He’s trying, learning to smile when Calum wraps him into a big hug, not flinching when Ashton pushes him off his bunk and settles in himself to be cuddled.

The other boys know, know that Luke still wants to itch out of his skin most days. But Michael is the only one who has the privilege of scratching the red, wrinkled skin after he takes off his binder for the evening. When he sighs and shudders under Mikey’s fingers, Michael has to scoot back just a hair, remind himself that this is for Luke and not for him.

Even if the soft, deep, even breathing does send sparks and shivers down his spine. It’s always fine, though. Michael pushes the stinging sensation away and forces himself to behave. And when he does, when he’s really good, Luke melts against him. Once or twice, he’s fallen asleep; shirtless and warm and heavy. But Mikey wouldn’t dare move him.

One day, though, Michael decides that he doesn’t want to be nice.

They’re on the tour bus, just Michael and Luke for once, and it’s quiet. Ashton and Calum drummed on the walls of the bus, demanding to go out, until Michael finally pushed them out of the door and told them not to come back until they were well and truly pissed. The pair laughed after them, though, waving and wishing them well. It’s nice, though, when the air stops buzzing and the comfortable _MikeyandLuke_ silence settles over them.

“Scratch my back?” Luke asks, looking over his shoulder and batting his eyelashes. Michael rolls his eyes but motions for Luke to take off his shirt. The soft floral fabric comes off in a rustle of silk chiffon. The binder, though, is harder. He’s mastered it over the years: pull up from the left side on the bottom, pull the arm in, shimmy, then reach up and pull the right side over. Michael’s watched him do this a thousand times, but he’s beautiful every time. Luke takes a deep breath, expands his chest, and is just himself. Being allowed into this side of him is an honor that Michael will never take for granted.

But tonight, Mikey notices the length of Luke’s legs, the wide expanse of his shoulders and the softness of his hips. He inhales. Be patient. Take your ttime.

“I love you, you know?” he says. Luke chuffs.

“You say so all the time. Come on and scratch me already.”

“No, not yet.” Luke whines, wriggles his body in protest. “Turn around for me.” The air turns crisp and electric. He’s never asked Luke to do that before. Normally, he’s content to sit behind Luke and rub him down. But today has to be different. Or he’ll lose his nerve.

“What?” Luke stutters. “Mikey--”

“Hey,” he says. “I’m not...I don’t…” Michael pauses, scrubs his face down. “What I mean to say is that...you’re beautiful.” Luke starts to curl into himself.

“Maybe I should...go.” The word hangs in the air, and Michael hates himself the minute the word comes out of his mouth. He knows how often before boys have cradled Luke’s face in their hands, whispered the word "beautiful" and then running away when they found out Luke’s truth.

“No, don’t. I don’t mean it like that. I mean…” Michael grits his teeth and growls in frustration. “Would you look at me? Please?” It must be the soft pleading in Mikey’s voice that shows Luke that Michael really doesn’t want to hurt him. He’s never wanted to hurt him. Luke turns around, clutching the binder in front of his chest.

“So then what do you mean it like?” There are so many things that Michael wants to say. He wants to say that he loves the way that Luke’s thighs look so firm that he’s constantly driven to bite them. He wants to say that the soft skin of Luke’s back is the best feeling his hands have ever felt, which beats the feeling of cradling the neck of his guitar. He wants to say that every time he looks at Luke, he knows what it’s like to fall in love. But instead what comes out is:

“Every time I look at you, I want to pin you to the bed and go down on you until you see white and all you can say is my name.” Mikey knows he looks just as shocked as Luke does. “Um,” he tacks on. “Surprise?" 

“Come again?” Luke asks. His eyes are wild and bewildered, like he doesn’t know whether to laugh, run, or cry. He chokes on a sound that could be a number of things. “Mikey, you know that--”

“I know exactly who you are, and I meant exactly what I said. D’you know how many years I’ve spent scratching your back? How often I’ve touched you to sleep? I know almost every inch of you, for fuck’s sake! I’ve… I. I want you. I love you. And every time I touch your back I want to pull you close and get my hands between your legs and feel you come on my fingers again and again and again. I want to leave hickeys on the insides of your thighs and make you _feel_ how much I love you. I want, I _need_ \--”

Luke drops his binder and crushes himself into Michael’s arms. He doesn’t care that he’s too big to fit into them right, shoulders himself into him anyway. And then they’re kissing. Frantic, erratic, pins and needles everywhere that they touch. Michael pulls off his jacket with one hand and cups the back of Luke’s neck with the other so he knows he’s not allowed to pull away. Luke whines, so Mikey bites his lower lip.

“ _Fuck_ , every time I look at you all I can see are the thousand different places that I want to mark you. I wanna know what you look like when I finally get to be inside of you. You’re always so warm under my hands,” he groans, tugs at the belt buckle from Luke’s too tight leather pants. He’s always putting on a show, even when he’s not on stage. Now is no different. Luke giggles into Michael’s mouth, dances away so that he can whip off the belt and let it clatter to the floor before diving back into Mikey’s space. Michael welcomes him with open arms, takes a few steps backward until they’re tangled up in Luke’s bunk.

“Mikey,” Luke says between kisses. Michael’s hands slide down Luke’s waist, grabbing right above his hip bones and straddles him. Michael kisses him again, revels in the smoky smell of just Luke. He whines into Luke’s mouth and kisses him harder, driving his hips down.

“Mikey,” Luke repeats. “Mikey, _wait_.” The soft command stops Michael in his tracks. He freezes, hands loosening their grip on Luke’s waist. Terror fills him with freezing cold lead in his extremities.

“I--” he starts, but Luke rests his hand on top of Michael’s.

“I wanna take it off,” he says, which is so much different than what he was expecting.

“Take it off? You’re already--” Luke pulls Michael’s hand down further, past the snap button of his pants, past the zipper, down to the-- “Oh.” Luke starts to pull away, but Michael stops him, shaking his head. “No, no, no. No more running. Let me take it off for you? I’ll be real careful.” It’s a promise, and Luke nods once, takes a deep breath and lets go of Michael’s hand.

To his credit, Mikey is incredibly tender as he snaps open Luke’s pants. He pulls down the zipper tooth by tooth, until the soft, thick, heavy latex packer is exposed. Michael’s seen Luke in various states of undress before, but never like this: splayed open with his pants stripped halfway down his beautiful thighs. He’s vulnerable and stunning, and Michael can’t wait to really get his hands on every inch of Luke’s body.

“Lift up, huh?” he asks, tugging down Luke’s pants the rest of the way. Mikey takes special care to put the packer under Luke’s pants, so it doesn’t get ruined. And then he’s there, between Luke’s legs, where he’s been waiting to be for years--since the first time Luke trusted him enough to bare his back to him. So Michael closes his eyes and sighs, rests his cheek on the soft baby hairs of Luke’s inner thighs, and talks.

“Fuck, Lukey,” he starts, sliding his hands up Luke’s legs. He stops just before his fingers can really touch. But Luke is warm, wet, waiting. “I love the way you smell, Lukey. You’re so warm and you’re always so good to me. I can’t wait to touch you, to put my mouth on you. You always sound so perfect when you sing. I can’t wait for you to sing for me. I’ve never wanted to taste someone so badly before. I’ve wanted to for years. Watching you sing, touching you. But never _touching_ you. Not like this.” Michael strokes his thumb down from the top of Luke’s pelvis, stopping to rest on the hard bud throbbing beneath him.

Michael’s waited for months to ask, to figure out how to navigate the expanse of Luke’s body to make him comfortable. He presses his thumb down a little harder and watches Luke squirm.

“Mikey,” he whines, and Michael chuckles, his breath tickling the pubic hairs under his nose. He’s so close that he could bury himself between Luke’s legs. They’ve always done that to each other. Lukey this and Mikey that. A comforting kind of childish innocence.

“How do you...how do you talk about yourself? When you touch yourself?” Luke, instead of shying away, trying to cover himself, he opens up to Michael.

“It’s,” he starts, curling his hand around Michael’s wrist. “That’s my cock. And everything else is--”

“Everything else,” Michael finishes. Luke breathes a sigh of relief. “Got it.” He smiles up at Luke through heavy eyelids. “Tell me, _Lukey_ ,” he says, rolling around his name in his mouth. He kisses the head of Luke’s cock, waits for Luke to finish shivering before continuing. “What would you like me to do while I’m right here, hm?”

It’s not the first time that Luke’s been at a loss for words, but this time is different. Normally, it’s in interviews. He doesn’t quite come up with the right answers at the right time. The conversation moves too quickly for him to find the right thing to say, and by the time he does, they’ve moved on. But this isn't like that. This is a flabbergasted, flustered kind of silence that makes Michael hum and press his mouth against Luke’s cock, flicks it with his tongue.

“No? Nothing? How about I tell you what I had in mind?” Luke just nods, so Michael nips the inside of Luke’s left thigh and giggles after he yelps. “Sorry, I can’t hear you.” Michael closes his lips around Luke’s cock, refusing to put any pressure to the movement until Luke answers him.

“Y--ah--yes, God.”

“You can call me Mikey,” he says with a wink. Luke chuffs, and Michael half-shrugs a shoulder. “Everyone’s a critic,” he hums. “Let me see,” he says, drumming thick fingers on top of Luke’s pelvis. “Where to start? You know how you’re always talking about how flexible you are? I wanna test that.” Before Luke has a chance to really ask what that means, Michael’s got Luke’s legs in the air, knees pushed up around his ears. Everything is slick, quivering in anticipation. Mikey scoots down a little lower, on his knees and elbows so he can hold Luke’s thighs with his shoulders.

“You really are bendy, aren’t you? Fuck, that’s hot. I’m gonna undo you. I’ll be slow at first, suck you off nice and slow. I want you to beg for it, but I won’t let that be all. I’ll use you, have you dripping under my fingers and screaming my name.” Luke’s watery " _fuck"_ rings in his ears. Michael slides his middle finger down, over Luke’s cock, further, and then sinks inside. Luke visibly tenses, then relaxes, then tenses again when Michael flips his hand palm up and curls his finger forward.

“Fuck!” Luke gasps, trying to sit up. Michael pushes his shoulders forward, pinning him in place.

“No escape, Lukey,” he whispers, dropping his mouth to suck on Luke’s cock, one soft half-kiss after another drawing deep, heaving breaths. Michael rubs his thumb over Luke’s cock in time with his middle finger, alternating between his mouth and his fingers. “I haven’t even gotten that far. We’ve just started and you’re dripping all over me. Look at how good you are. _Fuck_ Luke,” he groans, pushing his hips down onto the bed. Now isn’t time for him. He pulls his finger away so Luke can really see what Michael does to him. Michael draws his tongue up from the palm of his hand to the tip of his finger, eyes closed as he commits Luke’s taste to memory.

“Shit, babe.” The word pops out from his lips before he can stop them and he turns red, almost embarrassed by the display of emotion. But then Luke’s eyes flutter and Michael knows he’s barely scratched the surface on what they’re going to do tonight. “Yeah? You like it when I call you babe, hm?” He pushes two fingers back in and sucks Luke’s cock into his mouth, pumping his hand so slowly it drives him crazy. Luke pulses around his hand, thighs jumping at each new sensation. Michael growls and sets his tongue to work, whispering words of encouragement when he opens his mouth to draw breath.

“Fuck yeah, Lukey, just like that. Want you to fuck my mouth. You can let go,” he coos, takes a minute to suck Luke’s cock into his mouth. Luke squirms, but Michael doubles down on the pressure, shoulders keeping his legs back. Luke threads his arm through his legs to scratch his nails down the back of Michael’s scalp, holds him there.

“Yes, Mikey. _Yes, please_. Please, please, p--” The begging is cut off when Michael adds a third finger, unrelenting in his rhythm. Luke whimpers and pulls Michael’s face closer. Mikey sucks a deep breath through his nose and looks up at him. Luke’s hair is half sweat-pasted down across his forehead, the rest fluffy against the pillow.

“You look glorious like this. Like a Renaissance painting.” He kisses Luke’s cock, pulls his fingers away. They’re sticky and hot on Luke’s thigh when Michael grips both of them with his hands and drops his face down, sinking his tongue inside of him.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah?” Michael mumbles, muffled. Luke is tangy like pineapple and sweet like honeyed wine. Luke grabs Michael’s hair to ground himself, to connect, because he’s pretty sure he’d float away otherwise. Michael licks his lips and returns, nosing down past Luke’s cock again and delving his tongue inside. He wants to talk, wants to tell Luke how good he is like this, open and naked and wanting. But his mouth is busy with other things.

He pushes his tongue in just a little further and shifts his hand so he can put his fingers back in, thrusting in time with the stroke of his tongue. Above him, Luke shudders, unable to find the right sound to leave his mouth.

“Mikey, Michael, Michael…” Luke babbles Michael’s name over and over again until the syllables run together and all he can make out is one long _mmmm_.

“Yeah, come on,” he encourages. “I can feel it, how close you are. Come on, Luke, let go for me babe. Let me have it. Come all over my mouth, show me how much you love it when I fuck you like this.” Michael puts his mouth back on Luke’s cock, hollows out his cheeks and sucks. His tongue flickers at the underside of it, tender but unrelenting coupled with his hand.

Luke arches, a feat Michael didn’t think was possible with how far back his legs are already pushed, but he bucks up all the same. Luke gasps, holds his breath, then cries out. It’s a string of words that don’t really make any sense, but Michael knows he’s crying out for _him_ , because of _him_.

Michael eases the suction of his lips around Luke’s cock, strokes his thighs and shushes him. He kisses where he can reach without moving, peppering them in layers until Luke whines.

“Okay, okay, babe. I’ve got you.” It takes a minute of maneuvering to extract Michael’s shoulders from between Luke’s legs and gently ease them down onto the bed. He rubs the tops of Luke’s thighs, massaging the feeling back into them. When Mikey looks down at Luke, he’s wearing a silent and contented smile. That’s when he realizes how he must look. He can feel how pink and warm his lips are, and there’s slick and spit running down his chin. Absently, he drags his thumb across his chin and pops it into his mouth, closing his eyes and humming.

“You’re mad,” Luke tells him fondly.

“Maybe, yeah. But that doesn’t mean you don’t taste good. Wanna see?” Luke scrunches his face, sex dazed and confused. So Michael takes the initiative and hovers over Luke, lowering himself down inch by inch until their lips are touching. And then parting. And then Michael’s panting under Luke’s soft touches on his biceps. His dick strains in his jeans, but he refuses to touch himself. Not yet at least.

“You okay?” Michael asks when he finally pulls away, swiping at the mess he made on Luke’s cheeks. It doesn’t work, just smears it all around, but it’s a kind gesture.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “So okay. I...thank you?” Luke sits up, shoving Michael lightly in the chest so he sits up. He’s kind of straddling Luke’s thighs, half leaned back on his haunches while trying not to hit his head on the upper bunk. “I want to thank you.”

“You never have to thank me, babe. I’ve—“

“Would you shut up and let me thank you?” Luke’s voice is still soft, but it’s cheeky now, and brightness shines in his eyes. Michael makes a show of zipping his lips. Luke trails his finger across Michael’s collarbone, and Mikey hums in contentment.

“You always see me,” he says, pressing his palm to Michael’s chest. He spreads his fingers over Michael’s heart and inhales. “So I want to see you, too.”

“See me how?” Michael teases. He knows exactly what Luke means, but when he rolls his eyes and blushes, Mikey knows he’s going to have fun drawing it out of him. “Come on: see me how?”

“Like you see me,” he says, gesturing to his naked body. The flush spreads further down his chest, and Michael’s grin grows. He pulls his shirt over his head, only cursing once when his elbow hits the underside of the bunk bed. Michael looks down at himself. He doesn’t really admire himself, not so much. But the way that Luke stares at him in silent glory is reassuring.

“Can’t take my pants off sitting on this bed, kiddo. Budge up.” Luke sticks out his tongue but shifts his legs out of the way so Michael can get up. He strips without ceremony, yanking off his shoes and socks. They clatter to the floor, swiftly followed by his jeans, boxers bunched up inside of the leg holes of his pants. His cock bounces, still half-hard, and immediately he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s not uncomfortable by any means, but now he understands the vulnerability of standing naked in front of someone you’ve loved for years.

“Wow,” Luke whispers. He sits up, tucks his legs underneath him and holds out his hands. Michael only takes a second before he’s sitting on the bed again, fingers tangled together. “I want.” Luke pauses, trying to think of the right words to say.

“You want?” Michael leads. Luke huffs. “Luke. Babe. I don’t know what you want unless you tell me you want it. Didn’t I tell you what I wanted? And you were so good for me--let me have everything. What is it, hmm? What do you need?” Luke closes his eyes, and Michael doesn’t push. He can see the gears turning in Luke’s head, trying to let go of this bashful moment of insecurity to take what he wants. Because Michael will give him anything, everything. All Luke needs to do is ask.

What he gets is so much better.

“Please, Mikey. Please, I just wanna suck your cock. You made me feel so good. I want to feel you, all the way in my throat. I want my mouth to be so full of you. Please.” The last please is more of a sigh than a real request. A reminder that Luke needs to give Michael this just as badly as he needed to get it.

Mikey sits in stunned silence. Just for a moment, and then he leans over, carefully, like if he breathes wrong, the moment will break, and kisses Luke on the lips. It’s soft, delicate. Everything in contrast to the way that Michael’s cock thrums in his lap.

“Yeah. Yeah, Luke, okay.” Michael nods and leans back, letting his head thunk against the wall. It’s nice to have something else hold him up, not having to depend on his own strength to stay upright. Luke crawls over to him. There’s not much distance to cover in the small bed, but Luke stretches out until his chin is just at the base of Michael’s dick.

“Oh, fuck, you look hot like that,” Mikey whispers. Luke just smiles and sticks out his tongue. He lays it flat on the underside of Michael’s cock and licks a wide, warm stripe up to the top before swallowing on top of the head. Luke has to open his mouth a little wider to accommodate how thick it is. He can only imagine what it would feel like inside of him, stretching him. He whimpers at the thought and bobs his head, sticking his tongue out a little further to suck a little deeper. Michael groans above him, spreading his legs and bringing his hands down to rest on Luke’s head. His left hand stays on top, alternating between ruffling and grasping at Luke’s hair, but his right hand curves down to just above the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, Luke, fuck. Like that,” he groans, using his right hand to guide Luke deeper. Luke does, just opens his mouth and swallow until his nose is touching Michael. “Oh, shit, Lukey. Jesus…” Michael pants, tries and fails not to snap his hips upward. Luke chokes for a brief moment, but before Mikey can pull away, Luke’s hands are on his thighs, holding him steady.

“It’s okay,” he says, licking his lips as he comes up for a mouthful of fresh air. “It’s okay, I like it. I love it. Love you.” Michael doesn’t get the chance to say it back. His love gets swallowed in a rush of air as Luke takes him whole again, mouth swelling to fit every inch. Michael curls a hand around Luke’s cheek, can feel it bulging with the size of his cock.

In all of the years that Michael has been imagining and waiting for this moment, it’s nothing like he’d dreamed. It’s been months of jerking off in the tour bus bathroom after Luke fell asleep, of biting down on his lip so he doesn’t cry out Luke’s name in the middle of the night. But here they are, _now_ , and Mikey can finally say it. Without barriers.

“Oh, God, Luke. Luke, please,” he begs, but Michael’s not sure for what in particular. He’s got all he’s ever wanted right there in his lap and under his hands, but his skin burns for more. Luke must know what it means, though, even though Michael doesn’t. Luke shifts his head, just a little, and Michael feels Luke’s tongue rolling circles down by his balls. And that’s it. He’s gone. All of the years of waiting, of tension and trying to find the right time to ask and the perfect moment to go for it all fall into place in that one, circular motion.

“Chr--Lu--Lukey,” is all he manages to say, and then he’s holding Luke’s head still and pumping up into it. He’s tense, breathless, for a while, until he groans and drops his shoulders. He keeps his hands on Luke’s head, threaded through his hair. He can’t tell if it’s because Luke’s still sucking him, sucking and swallowing until Michael has nothing left to give, or because it’s the only thing grounding him in the right here and now.

When it’s too much, though, Michael whimpers and pulls away. Luke comes off of him with a wet pop, come dribbling down the corner of his mouth. Mikey’s still at a loss for words. All he can do is reach over, pull Luke up to him and kiss him. He tastes them together, each one of them individual parts of the same whole, until they break apart, gasping for air. The distance between their lips is too much for them both, and they curl into each other, tangled up in limbs and sweat and come. They’re warm together, but Mikey pulls a blanket over them anyway. He knows Luke gets uncomfortable when he comes back down to earth, recognizes his nudity for what he thinks he isn’t.

“Mikey,” Luke whispers against his cheek. Michael strokes his hair, kisses the side of his head.

“I got you, Lukey,” he promises.

“Can we…” Michael tenses, anticipating a desire to pull away, to get dressed and pretend this never happened, that it’s over before it began. Mentally, Michael prepares himself for heartbreak. “Can we do this again?”

“Right now?” Michael asks, laughing. Luke rolls his eyes and shoves back into him, gives him the finger under the blanket. It’s far less effective when he’s flushed and warm like this. “Don’t worry, babe. Let’s have a nap, huh? And then I’ll fuck you into next week as soon as we wake up.” He anticipates Luke’s question, ready with his spitfire tongue to answer. “Yes, regardless of whether Ash and Calum are here.”

And Luke is more than content with that.


End file.
